This story begins with a word: a word to the mother. . . "Madonna". The train left Copenhagen bound for Amsterdam around 9 o' clock and we were set to arrive in the Netherlands the next day just at mid-morning.
Sweden had been brillant, but the the price was steep. At a last attempt to salvage what was left of my travelling expense for Scandanavia, I passed on the sleeping berth and bought a night train ticket, a single seat. And in the cabinette were two dark haired people each with small frames. There were two university aged girls. I could feel anticipation but whom it was coming from I hadn't known. The girls were speaking German softly and then, the dark haired people stood up, and left. They didn't come back. Outside was so cold. Though my own company I cannot do without, I longed for someone else. And that was real, but it was just fire added to something I already waited for. It was general warmth and bit of sadness and all and all I was comforted knowing that this my own experiment and experience.
The two girls looked over at me and they had a single-way proposition. "Our friend," one began, "has been split up and she is in the cabin next door. Would you trade seats with her."
There was no reason to say no and so, I collected my things and moved next door. There the third friend of four was doing the same, preparing to swtich seats. "Have a nice journey," she said the man sitting in the cabin.
The train was making its way across Denmark and to paint a picture would only pale in the beauty of the green and blue and white all set against a still and perfect palette. The man, I don't remember his name, was Norweigen I thought his English was just fine, however, I could not understand much of what he was saying. I smiled. We talked for maybe 15 minutes and he asked if he could let the window down. Well, of course. Though it had been maybe 18 or so degrees already. And, he reached for the window coughing. I don't remember his name because now I remember, I never asked.
Well, about his family I donn't know either, becuase the conversation was small talk, I was sleepy and thinking about some method to pass 10 late hours with barely enough room to stretch and no room to recline. And so, I simply rested my head on my shoulder supported by a folded up scarf.
And, then, I heard an intense snore and woke up to see the man sitting on my side of the cabin one seat over.
"Do you have enough space, sir?" I asked out of genuine concern and genuine discomfort. He mumbled, yes, and said something, which I assumed was the desire to not ride opposite the way of the train. I walked out the cabin to look through the large windows in the passage way.
Everything was beautiful. I looked out wishing it was possible to absorb the entire moment. This was Denmark melting into Germany and if I had an imaginery spoon I would dip it into the landscape and taste the atmosphere. The water was so deep dark blue it was refreshing and thrist provoking at the same time. I had a bottle of water in my bag, in the cabin.
In the cabin the man remained in his new seat and sat slumped over the chair. Some Italians next door were rubbing tomato over baguettes and I could smell tuna. They moved from one cabin to another because the whole group had taken up at least 7 or 8 seats. One of them had cut fruit and I could smell the fructose. It must have been strong as I can hardly smell.
I walked back to my seat and started to study Italian some more.
A lady walked in. She spoke neither Dutch nor German nor English and only her husband said anything. The train conductor came though checking tickets and assisting passengers.
"Sir," he hadn't heard me.
I waited for him to return and help the couple then said a bit more boldy, "sir, I'm concerned about this man, he doesn't seem to be moving."
And the story could go on. But the man was pronounced dead, so I'll stop writing there. But, what, what was the last word I had said to him? Becuase my voice was the last he'd heard.
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